Marrying Winterborne
Page 93
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“I have to listen to my heart,” Helen said quietly.
That elicited a bitter scrape of laughter. “The downfall of every woman since Eve has begun with those exact words.” The hand slid from her head. Another uneven breath. “You will allow me some privacy now.”
“I’m so sorry to have upset you,” Helen whispered, and pressed a quick kiss to her cool, wrinkled fingers. Slowly she rose to her feet, and saw that the countess had averted her face sharply. A tear glittered high on the time-weathered plane of her cheek.
“Go,” Lady Berwick said curtly, and Helen slipped from the room.
AS HELEN ASCENDED the stairs, she became aware of an ache in her lower back, and a weariness that had sunk into her with backward barbs. She gripped the railing at intervals to pull herself upward. Her skirts felt as if they’d been lined with lead. With every churn of her tired legs against the fabric, unpleasant scents wafted up from the hems.
Near the top of the staircase, she heard a buoyant sprinkling of musical notes floating delicately through the air. The familiar sounds came from a rosewood music box that Rhys had once given her. It was so large that it occupied its own special table, with a special drawer containing needled brass cylinders. Following the music, Helen went to the family parlor and looked inside.
Noticing her presence, Pandora came to the door with a finger held to her lips. Her blue eyes were alive with amusement.
Together they stood at the threshold, and watched as Cassandra swayed and turned graceful circles in time to the music. Charity was next to her, dressed in a white chemise with pinned-up straps, the garment ridiculously large for her. Although she faced away from Helen, it was clear that she was excited from the way she bounced on her bare feet. She was so delicate, her bones protruding, that it seemed as if she might float away like dandelion fluff. But she looked much cleaner, and her hair was damp and combed so that most of it lay against her head.
Trying to imitate Cassandra, the child moved in awkward little hops and turned in wobbly circles, like a baby fairy. She kept glancing up at Cassandra, seeking reassurance, as if she were adapting to the idea of playing with an adult.
The sight restored Helen’s spirits like nothing else could have.
Pandora took her arm and drew her from the room. “Come with me, Helen—there’s a supper tray in your room. You can eat while they play. And I beg you, have a bath. I don’t know what that smell is, but it was on Charity too, and it’s like every bad thing I’ve ever smelled all mixed together.”
“How did the washing go?”
“Not well, Helen,” Pandora said darkly. “She is geologically dirty. It scrapes off in layers. We could have used chisels. She wouldn’t let us wash her hair properly, but we found if we gave her a little cloth to hold over her eyes, she would tip her head back enough to let us pour a teacup of water over it. Twice, and that was all she would allow. Children can be so strong-willed.”
“Can they?” Helen asked dryly.
“She ate an entire bowl of soup and some bread with butter. We had no problem cleaning her teeth—she likes the taste of tooth powder. Her gums are red and puffy, but her teeth are like little pearls. None of them are rotting or have cavities, as far as I can tell. I cut her fingernails and toenails, but the dirt goes below the quick on some of them, and I couldn’t reach it. She’s wearing one of my chemises for a nightgown—I pinned up the straps. Mrs. Abbott is washing her clothes. She wanted to burn all of them, but I told her not to because we have nothing else for Charity to wear.”
“We’ll buy clothes for her tomorrow,” Helen said absently.
“Helen, may I ask you something?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Who is she, where did she come from, why is she here, and what are you going to do with her?”
Helen groaned and sighed. “There’s so much to explain.”
“You can start while you’re having soup.”
“No, I want to wait for Cassandra. There’s too much for me to tell it twice.”
After Helen had eaten, bathed, and changed into a nightgown and robe, she sat in her bed with Charity snuggled beside her. They watched as the twins enacted the story of the three bears. Cassandra played the part of Goldilocks, naturally, while Pandora played all of the bears. Fascinated by the story and the twins’ antics, Charity watched with huge eyes as the biggest bear chased Goldilocks from the room.
By the time the drama had concluded, the little girl was breathing fast with excitement. “Again, again,” she cried.
“I’ll tell it this time,” Helen said. While the twins lounged on the bed, taking up every available inch of space, she drew the story out as long as possible. She kept her voice lulling and gentle, watching as Charity’s eyes became heavy-lidded.
“. . . and then Goldilocks lay on the bed of the little, small, wee bear . . . and it was a nice, soft, clean bed, with linen sheets and a blanket made from the wool of a fluffy white sheep. Goldilocks rested her head on a pillow stuffed with down, and thought it was just like floating on a cloud. She knew that she was going to have lovely dreams while she slept in that warm little bed, and in the morning there would be nice things to eat and a cup of chocolate for her tummy . . .” Helen stopped when she saw the long lashes flutter down, and the child’s mouth slackened.
“Your version is far too long-winded, Helen,” Pandora said. “How is anyone supposed to stay awake when you drone on and on like that?”
Helen exchanged a grin with her. Carefully she inched away from the sleeping child and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. “She doesn’t laugh,” she whispered, looking down at the small, solemn face.
That elicited a bitter scrape of laughter. “The downfall of every woman since Eve has begun with those exact words.” The hand slid from her head. Another uneven breath. “You will allow me some privacy now.”
“I’m so sorry to have upset you,” Helen whispered, and pressed a quick kiss to her cool, wrinkled fingers. Slowly she rose to her feet, and saw that the countess had averted her face sharply. A tear glittered high on the time-weathered plane of her cheek.
“Go,” Lady Berwick said curtly, and Helen slipped from the room.
AS HELEN ASCENDED the stairs, she became aware of an ache in her lower back, and a weariness that had sunk into her with backward barbs. She gripped the railing at intervals to pull herself upward. Her skirts felt as if they’d been lined with lead. With every churn of her tired legs against the fabric, unpleasant scents wafted up from the hems.
Near the top of the staircase, she heard a buoyant sprinkling of musical notes floating delicately through the air. The familiar sounds came from a rosewood music box that Rhys had once given her. It was so large that it occupied its own special table, with a special drawer containing needled brass cylinders. Following the music, Helen went to the family parlor and looked inside.
Noticing her presence, Pandora came to the door with a finger held to her lips. Her blue eyes were alive with amusement.
Together they stood at the threshold, and watched as Cassandra swayed and turned graceful circles in time to the music. Charity was next to her, dressed in a white chemise with pinned-up straps, the garment ridiculously large for her. Although she faced away from Helen, it was clear that she was excited from the way she bounced on her bare feet. She was so delicate, her bones protruding, that it seemed as if she might float away like dandelion fluff. But she looked much cleaner, and her hair was damp and combed so that most of it lay against her head.
Trying to imitate Cassandra, the child moved in awkward little hops and turned in wobbly circles, like a baby fairy. She kept glancing up at Cassandra, seeking reassurance, as if she were adapting to the idea of playing with an adult.
The sight restored Helen’s spirits like nothing else could have.
Pandora took her arm and drew her from the room. “Come with me, Helen—there’s a supper tray in your room. You can eat while they play. And I beg you, have a bath. I don’t know what that smell is, but it was on Charity too, and it’s like every bad thing I’ve ever smelled all mixed together.”
“How did the washing go?”
“Not well, Helen,” Pandora said darkly. “She is geologically dirty. It scrapes off in layers. We could have used chisels. She wouldn’t let us wash her hair properly, but we found if we gave her a little cloth to hold over her eyes, she would tip her head back enough to let us pour a teacup of water over it. Twice, and that was all she would allow. Children can be so strong-willed.”
“Can they?” Helen asked dryly.
“She ate an entire bowl of soup and some bread with butter. We had no problem cleaning her teeth—she likes the taste of tooth powder. Her gums are red and puffy, but her teeth are like little pearls. None of them are rotting or have cavities, as far as I can tell. I cut her fingernails and toenails, but the dirt goes below the quick on some of them, and I couldn’t reach it. She’s wearing one of my chemises for a nightgown—I pinned up the straps. Mrs. Abbott is washing her clothes. She wanted to burn all of them, but I told her not to because we have nothing else for Charity to wear.”
“We’ll buy clothes for her tomorrow,” Helen said absently.
“Helen, may I ask you something?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Who is she, where did she come from, why is she here, and what are you going to do with her?”
Helen groaned and sighed. “There’s so much to explain.”
“You can start while you’re having soup.”
“No, I want to wait for Cassandra. There’s too much for me to tell it twice.”
After Helen had eaten, bathed, and changed into a nightgown and robe, she sat in her bed with Charity snuggled beside her. They watched as the twins enacted the story of the three bears. Cassandra played the part of Goldilocks, naturally, while Pandora played all of the bears. Fascinated by the story and the twins’ antics, Charity watched with huge eyes as the biggest bear chased Goldilocks from the room.
By the time the drama had concluded, the little girl was breathing fast with excitement. “Again, again,” she cried.
“I’ll tell it this time,” Helen said. While the twins lounged on the bed, taking up every available inch of space, she drew the story out as long as possible. She kept her voice lulling and gentle, watching as Charity’s eyes became heavy-lidded.
“. . . and then Goldilocks lay on the bed of the little, small, wee bear . . . and it was a nice, soft, clean bed, with linen sheets and a blanket made from the wool of a fluffy white sheep. Goldilocks rested her head on a pillow stuffed with down, and thought it was just like floating on a cloud. She knew that she was going to have lovely dreams while she slept in that warm little bed, and in the morning there would be nice things to eat and a cup of chocolate for her tummy . . .” Helen stopped when she saw the long lashes flutter down, and the child’s mouth slackened.
“Your version is far too long-winded, Helen,” Pandora said. “How is anyone supposed to stay awake when you drone on and on like that?”
Helen exchanged a grin with her. Carefully she inched away from the sleeping child and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. “She doesn’t laugh,” she whispered, looking down at the small, solemn face.
